


Moving in Is

by herbailiwick



Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV), Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M, Moving, Moving In Together, Not a Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-20
Updated: 2012-10-20
Packaged: 2017-11-16 16:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For cmcross, who is moving.</p><p>Couldn't decide on just one pairing, so have three drabbles: a Martlas (<em>Cabin Pressure</em>), a Janto (<em>Torchwood</em>), and a Mollcroft (<em>Sherlock</em>).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving in Is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cmcross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmcross/gifts).



**Simple**

Everything Martin owns fits right in. And he's used to moving boxes, so that's not difficult, but it's nice to have Douglas's help. 

"Much better than your attic, isn't it?" Douglas says with a smirk, but he really wants reassurance; Martin can tell.

"It is, actually."

"I'm making dinner tonight. No protests," Douglas informs. 

"Are you...are you sure this is fine?"

"Martin, I've honestly wanted you to move in for a very long time, nearly since the first time I saw your dire old attic. You deserve more." He pauses, wondering whether he should have said that, wondering if he's revealed too much.

"Er...thank you," Martin says, confused. 

Martin's confused and a bit touched when Douglas says he's making his favorite for dinner. "That's...that's my favorite," he announces.

"Yes, I know," says Douglas with amusement. "You know what they say about a man's stomach. You can watch telly while you wait, if you like."

"Alright," Martin agrees, standing. Then, hand on the back of the chair as he pushes it in, he freezes. "Douglas?"

"Yes, Martin?"

"Is what they say about a man's stomach...that it's the way to his...his heart?" He turns, face questioning.

"Ah, is that what the saying is?" Douglas's lip quirks. "My mistake."

Martin frowns. "Are you...I mean...why would you want to find a way to my heart?"

"Why indeed?" Douglas says mysteriously. "Now, weren't you going to go watch telly?"

Martin flushes red and carefully makes his way to the sitting room. Funny, but he thought this'd be really straightforward.

***

**Impossible**

They can't move in together. Ianto is a firm believer in having some sort of solace outside the workplace, and Jack doesn't want to live anywhere but the Hub, doesn't feel safe, doesn't feel _right_ anywhere but the Hub.

And, plus, they aren't at the "moving in" stage, are they? They'll probably never be. 

But that isn't to say that Ianto doesn't stay over sometimes. That isn't to say that he doesn't have an extra toothbrush and extra clothes at the Hub. That doesn't mean they don't sit around and eat or drink in the conference room.

That doesn't mean they don't order food to Ianto's. That doesn't mean Ianto's never cooked for him. That doesn't mean they haven't cuddled on the sofa, falling asleep to the telly. That doesn't mean Jack doesn't keep a few of his purely ornamental, supplemental, sentimental relics lying around Ianto's here and there, like he's secretly claiming the place as part his.

Because moving in would be impossible, they're pretty sure. But pretty sure isn't one-hundred percent.

***

**Disheartening**

Molly looks around, surrounded by packed boxes, a newlywed with no husband. He's out on official business. He'd apologized multiple times, looking sorrier each time, and she'd hugged him and drank a cup of tea, and hugged him and told him it was alright. 

It isn't completely alright, though, because she misses him. He'd had emergency flights when they'd been dating, but some small part of her had perhaps imagined that married life would be a bit more stable. It is, too, in many ways, including that they'll be sharing a household.

But his place is so large, and she's only ever had the one flat, and all of her things will fit in this house, they do fit into this house, and Toby's already made himself at home, but Molly feels wary of the vastness, of the fine decoration.

"How are my pillows and dolls going to fit in?" she asks of Toby, who pauses and stares up at her. 

She sighs heavily and sits down cross-legged on the floor. She opens the box next to her. "I don't fit in," she says. "Already, my stuff is just...well, it's not...." She gestures to the house. "Oh, why did he even pick me?" she scoffs.

When she finally makes her way up to the master bedroom with a couple glass figurines she'll place on the sparsely-filled shelves, she sees a bouquet of flowers on the table by the window.

She sets the figurines down next to the vase and reaches for the little card.

 _Sorry, again, my dear,_  the card says, in a scribbled mockery of his typical writing; he must have really been in a rush. She thinks that makes the card more human, thinks it suits the moment _. I'm disappointed that I can't be with you to find a place for your things. In time, you'll see that they truly belong here, as do you. My house has been empty for far too long. - Mycroft_

Slipping the card into her pocket, Molly goes down to get more of her things, momentarily overwhelmed by the sea of boxes. But she knows the card is in her pocket.


End file.
